folly descended upon him, heavier, more
intolerably, more inexorably fixed with every succeeding moment, while
the light of truth and reason searched every corner of his mind, and his
doubt grew and hardened into certainty.

If only Bennett could have believed that, in spite of what had happened,
Lloyd yet loved him, he could have found some ray of light in the
darkness wherein he groped, some saving strength to bear the weight of
his remorse and sorrow. But now, just in proportion as he saw clearer
and truer he saw that he must look for no help in that direction. Being
what Lloyd was, it was impossible for her, even though she wished it, to
love him now--love the man who had broken her! The thought was
preposterous. He remembered clearly that she had warned him of just
this. No, that, too, the one sweetness of his rugged life, he must put
from him as well--had already, and of his own accord, put from him.

How go on? Of what use now was ambition, endeavour, and the striving to
attain great ends? The thread of his life was snapped; his friend was
dead, and the love of the one woman of his world. For both he was to
blame. Of what avail was it now to continue his work?

Ferriss was dead. Who now would stand at his side when the darkness
thickened on ahead and obstacles drew across the path and Death overhead
hung poised and menacing?

Lloyd's love for him was dead. Who now to bid him godspeed as his
vessel's prow swung northward and the water whitened in her wake? Who
now to wait behind when the great fight was dared again, to wait behind
and watch for his home-coming; and when the mighty hope had been
achieved, the goal of all the centuries attained, who now to send that
first and dearest welcome out to him when the returning ship showed over
the horizon's rim, flagged from her decks to her crosstrees in all the
royal blazonry of an immortal triumph?

Now, that triumph was never to be for him. Ambition, too, was dead; some
other was to win where now he could but lose, to gain where now he could
but fail; some other stronger than he, more resolute, more determined.
At last Bennett had come to this, he who once had been so imperial in
the consciousness of his power, so arrogant, so uncompromising. Beaten,
beaten at last; defeated, daunted, driven from his highest hopes,
abandoning his dearest ambitions. And how, and why? Not by the Enemy he
had so often faced and dared, not by any power external to himself; but
by hi